


where the love light gleams

by worth_the_risk



Series: I For You [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Future Fic, Holidays, Jewish Holster, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 18,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worth_the_risk/pseuds/worth_the_risk
Summary: He pulled back enough to press the tips of their noses together and smiled. The lights reflected in his eyes, a cluster of white and gold amongst brown. “This year’s going to be great.”A series of stand-alone themed vignettes for the holidays.





	1. Lights

“You know,” Eric intoned, tucking his bare feet under himself and taking a sip of his hot chocolate, “I may complain endlessly about the cold, but this is worth it.” The room was dim, only the lights from the tree and the ones edging the windows were on. Snow was falling steadily outside, tiny mountains of white tucking themselves into the corners of the bay window. The white lights they’d strung up around the outside of the window were backlighting him and turning his hair to spun gold.

Jack looked up from the mess of wrapping trimmings he was surrounded by on the floor and smiled to himself, watching Eric watch the snow. It’d been a few years, a few Christmases, that they’d spent together alone in Providence. This would be the first Christmas they spent at home since Amèlie had been born. Between close-call roadies and traveling from Madison up to Montreal, the last three holiday seasons had been spent in transit for the most part. It was good to know that they’d be able to be still this year, get to revel in what it was to really be home for the holidays.

He pushed the boxes and wrapping paper out of the way and grabbed a blanket from the couch, sitting down next to his husband in the window seat and tucking the blanket around the two of them. Eric leaned back against his chest.

“We’re supposed to have almost a foot by morning,” Jack whispered, kissing just behind Eric’s ear.

“Don’t ruin it and make me think of the shoveling.” Eric chuckled, finishing off the cup of hot chocolate and setting the mug down on the sill. He twisted in Jack’s arms and kissed him softly. He pulled back enough to press the tips of their noses together and smiled. The lights reflected in his eyes, a cluster of white and gold amongst brown. “This year’s going to be great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! So a few housekeeping things:  
> \- Amèlie is three and a half. I've been talking with my mom pretty often about how myself and my sister were when we were three and I was a very odd child. I did everything way earlier than I was expected to (I could read those big beautiful Disney books, the one hundred-ish page ones with the huge illustrations? without any help by the time I was two) so if she feels older than she is, that's both present-me's fault and past-me's fault.  
> \- My usual rules apply: if more than one or two words in a row are italicized, that phrase is more than likely spoken in French (I'll denote in the notes).  
> \- This will update every day until Christmas/the first day of Hanukkah. Pray for me. It's about half done right now but I'm still going to have busy, busy hands for the next few weeks.  
> \- More people will be popping up as this goes but the main cast is already in the tags.  
> \- There is vague, vague plot weaving its way through this but, for the most part, you will be able to read this in any order you want or skip chapters to find your favorite ships or rearrange things if you'd like.  
> \- If you would like the full prompt list, I will post it on my tumblr later today!
> 
> Please come chat with me on tumblr - I'm thedarkirishsilence.
> 
> Happy December, everyone!


	2. Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jack, honey, will you grab that box in the corner for me?” Eric pointed with his chin towards the tote next to the shelves where they stored their Halloween decorations. “It’s Moomaw’s Christmas dishes, so be careful.”

“Jack, honey, will you grab that box in the corner for me?” Eric pointed with his chin towards the tote next to the shelves where they stored their Halloween decorations. “It’s Moomaw’s Christmas dishes, so be careful.” He made his way carefully down the folding staircase out of the attic, carrying two smaller boxes of his own.

“Like I’d be anything but,” Jack teased. He pushed his hair back off his forehead and lifted the box, following Eric back down the stairs. “You want these in the kitchen, I’m assuming?”

“You assumed correctly.”

“Alright.” Jack set the box on the counter and walked into the living room, pulling Eric into his arms and kissing his forehead. “I’ve got to head to the rink. What time did you say Lardo’d be back with Ami?”

Eric checked his watch. “They should be back within an hour, and then we’re following you over that way.” He kissed his husband, soft and slow. “Play safe tonight, you hear me?” Jack nodded and kissed him once more before pulling away and heading towards the foyer to grab his bag and keys.

“Love you,” he called from the garage door.

“Love you, too.” The door clicked shut behind Jack. Eric turned to the multitude of boxes and took a big breath, steeling himself for the task ahead.

He, Jack, and Larissa had spent Amèlie’s morning nap cleaning the house from top to bottom so that the decorating wouldn't have to be stop-and-go. Once the little girl had woken up, full of energy and lacking patience, Larissa volunteered to take her gift shopping so that her fathers could spend some precious time alone and get all the breakable, antique decorations put up and out of her way. Amèlie was not by any means a purposefully destructive child, but she _was_ curious and enthusiastic. Eric cherished his and Jack’s hand me downs from their grandparents enough to know what a service Larissa had done them. Too bad he and Jack had gotten so distracted by each other that Jack’d had no time to spare for decorating before he had to report for work.

He sat on the couch, pulling one of the totes to rest between his knees and feeling the remains of his blush fade as he opened it. His grandmother’s hand-painted Victorian carolers appeared from beneath layers and layers of newspaper and packing foam; their delicate faces, kissed with bright blushes, were an instant dose of heavy nostalgia. He ran a thumb across the cheek of the blond man in the top hat as a tear skittered down his own face. He brushed it away with the back of his hand. He was glad he’d thought to ask for what he did from her while she was redrafting her will after he and Jack had gotten engaged. Not that he’d had to, considering the state she was in while she edited.

“A damn shame,” she'd said through her sharp grin as she crossed out a huge section of bequeathments. “A damn shame people don't understand that their only business is to love and be loved, isn't it, Dicky?”

He set the gentlemen with his elegantly dressed lady companions beside him on the couch cushion and unpacked the rest of the tote - a ceramic tree with multicolored bulbs, three blown-glass reindeer, stark white porcelain votives with snowflake cutouts, and a box of vintage glass ornaments.

Carefully standing as not to jostle the populated couch cushions, he gathered up the carolers and arranged them on the mantle, well out of reach of Amèlie’s playful hands. After fiddling with their positioning for a few minutes, he picked up the tree and put it opposite them, trailing the cord to plug it in against the wall to an outlet and planning to hide the majority of it with pine garland.

He stood back to admire the composition and found himself brushing away tears again. The front door flew open.

“Ami, careful!” Lardo chastised, her voice floating in from the foyer.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Amèlie scampered into the living room, skidding into her father’s legs. He wiped away his tears and bent to scoop her up. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“I’m missing my grandma, honey, that’s all.” She kissed his cheek and he smiled softly. “See those carolers? Those were hers.”

“So we gotta be extra special careful with those, right?”

“Right.” He rested his cheek on top of her head and they looked at the mantle together for a long moment.

“Okay. Well, what can I put up? I want to help!”

Eric set her down next to a box with her name on it. “Go ham, darlin'.”


	3. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lardo, that’s the best thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He’s going to love it.”
> 
> “I know.” She took a smug sip of her wine and tucked the blanket back around herself. “How’s your shopping going?”

“I keep pestering Jack to do his shopping and I’m fairly certain he’s just going to make a mass order from Amazon while he’s on a plane somewhere and I’m going to be left to deal with the delivery.” Eric took a long drink of his wine and tucked his toes under Larissa’s thigh. “He’s kind of the worst sometimes.” He chuckled.

“You married him.” She side eyed him, not shifting her face away from _It’s A Wonderful Life_ on the television.

He toasted to her. “Damn straight I did.” He took another small sip and set the stemless glass on the coffee table. “What’re you getting Shitty?”

“I commissioned a friend of mine who does pet portraiture to do a painting of Rufus in a business suit for his office.”

Eric snorted. “You mean like those really formal ones that were going around online a while back?”

“Mhm,” she giggled. “And she’s like, holding the scales of justice. It’s hilarious, hold on. I’ll pull up the sketch.” She grabbed her phone from her pocket and opened the photo gallery. “So, here’s the preliminary mock-up I sent xem. And,” she flicked her thumb across the screen, “here’s the sketch xe sent back yesterday.” A pencil version of their old Saint Bernard-something mix stared solemnly up at Eric, wearing a Victorian-style three-piece suit and supporting a sterling set of scales in her paws.

“Lardo, that’s the best thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He’s going to love it.”

“I know.” She took a smug sip of her wine and tucked the blanket back around herself. “How’s your shopping going?”

“Amèlie’s Santa shopping is done,” he murmured, ever-paranoid that the little one was somehow eavesdropping from her room on the other side of the house. “And I’m still picking up odds and ends for her. Jack and I already figured out you and Shitty’s big gift, and what we’re getting our parents. We’ve got Ransom & Holster’s gifts, and we may or may not have spent a little too much on Alexei and Kent.”

“You still overcompensating to make him feel welcome?”

Eric nodded vigorously. “You’ve known me for too long.”

She laughed softly. “What’s the gift for fourteenth friend-iversaries? I think it’s like, gold or crystal for married couples.”

“Maybe we’ll set the precedent.” He leaned his head on her shoulder and she rested hers on top of his. They watched the movie together for a few quiet moments before Larissa piped up again.

“What’re you getting Jack?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea of what to buy that man. And he’s already picked my gift out, apparently, and he’s being a complete brat about it.” He sighed. “It gets harder every Christmas, you know? I feel like I’m getting repetitive.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Oh, bite me. You’re the best at giving presents.”

“I know.”

He tapped his elbow against her side. “Then help me.”

She took the last sip of her glass as nonchalantly as possible. “Have you already bought for Chowder and Farmer and Lizzie?”

“I see you changing the subject and we’re not done here.” He glared at her. “But, no - they’re on Jack’s brainstorm list this year, so we’ll probably figure that out when he’s home over the weekend. He already renewed Dex and Nursey’s wine and beer of the month subscription like they always ask for, so they’re taken care of.” He paused, picking up his glass and swirling the pinot grigio around the bottom of the glass. “But seriously, help me with Jack’s?”

“Well, you’re not going to top what he got you this year.”

“Oh my _god_ . You two are the _absolute worst._ ”


	4. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who’re you wrapping for?”
> 
> “For none of your business, Kenny, that’s who.”
> 
> Kent’s grin was audible. “Oh, so for me then?”
> 
> “Shh, no. Or I take back to store.”

_2018_

“Hello, kotyonok.” Alexei tucked the phone between his shoulder and cheek so he could continue messily wrapping the big box in front of him.

“I can hear what you're doing, just put me on speaker.”

“Ah, good idea, I need both hands.” After setting the phone next to his knee, Alexei cut off three pieces of tape and stuck two to his jawline, smacking the other down on a paper edge.

“Who’re you wrapping for?”

“For none of your business, Kenny, that’s who.”

Kent’s grin was audible. “Oh, so for me then?”

“Shh, no. Or I take back to store.”

Kent laughed, boisterous and full. Alexei grinned, then winced as he pulled another piece of tape from his face. After a moment, Kent’s laughter petered out and he sighed. “I hate that we don't get to spend Christmas together, babe.”

“Me too. But we are together for New Year’s, so is okay.”

“It's different.” Kent pouted silently for a moment. “But at least we can kiss at midnight!”

“We are hopefully kissing more than at midnight!”

“No, but like - wait. Have you somehow not learned about New Year’s kisses?” Alexei remained stubbornly silent, mistaking the joy in Kent’s voice for teasing mockery. “Solhishka,” Kent breathed, “you countdown the last minute of the year and then kiss at midnight so that your old year ends and the new year begins the best way possible.”

“Oh!” Alexei smiled, then paused. “But is not only kiss of your visit?”

Kent chuckled, low and throaty. “Definitely not.”

 

_2021_

“Oh, Tater, you’re gonna cry, man.” Snowy shook his head before he pulled his helmet off. “I can’t believe you’ve never fuckin’ seen _Miracle on 34th Street_.”

“Kenny was saying same thing! I’m telling him I’m not knowing lots of things about American Christmas, but he’s just laughing at me.”

“Are you going to watch the old one or the newer one?” Snowy asked over his shoulder as he marked a ‘W’ on the calendar in his stall.

“There are more than one?” Alexei’s eyes widened.

“Kent will want to watch the old one,” Jack said, wrapping his laces in a neat bundle and tucking them into his skates. “You’ll get bonus points if you act like the one from the nineties is crap, Alexei.”

Alexei grinned. “Thank you, Zimmboni.”

“Anytime. Oh, and bring eggnog whenever you’re going to watch it. And spiced rum.” Jack took off his wedding ring and polished away the remaining sweat and water from the game and his shower on his towel. Alexei sat next to him, watching the dressing room lights glint off the silver band.

“Thank you for being so kind about me and Kent all this time. It means so much,” he murmured. Jack slipped the ring back into place and clapped his hand on Alexei’s knee.

“You’re both my friends. You make each other happy. You don’t hurt each other. Of course, Tater.”

Alexei’s eyes were still fixated on Jack’s left hand. “When you and Bitty were getting engaged...who asked who? Is there tradition when it’s two men or two women? Do you draw straws? Does older person ask? Or younger?” He wrung his hands.

Jack smiled and started to recount the memory, then looked at Alexei, jaw slack.

 

_2027_

Alexei and Jack stomped their way up the packed-snow path to Jack and Eric’s front door. Smiling, Alexei pointed out the snowman waving jauntily from his place in front of the big living room window. “Who built the snowman?” He kicked his toes against the risers as he took the few steps up to the porch, dislodging the snow from his boots.

“Bits and Ami and Lardo did that yesterday. Turned out pretty good, eh?” Jack stomped his feet on the mat, lifting his toes to knock the heels of his boots on the porch. He opened the door and stepped in and out of the way so Alexei could follow him in and away from the brisk evening.

“Where is the littlest one?” Alexei shrugged a few times, easing his coat down his arms, and hung it up.

“Uncle ‘Lexi!” Ami sprinted around from the kitchen and launched herself into Alexei’s arms. He bent his legs to catch her and stood again once she was safely ensconced, snuggling her close. “Did you see our snowman?”

“I did, dearest girl,” he squeezed her and set her on his hip, unwinding his scarf with his now free hand. “Have you given him your letters for Santa yet?”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes widened.

“Ah, you don’t know? Well, your Uncle Alexei, when he was small, wrote his wish list to Grandfather Frost-”

“Who?”

“Is Santa’s buddy,” Alexei frowned at her for interrupting and she blushed. “I give my letter to him every year and every year I get my gift!”

“Papa!” Amèlie reached to her father and he smiled, lifting her into his arms. “Will you help me with my new letter?”

“It's nice to see you, too,” he teased, kissing her forehead. She pouted.

“You know I always miss you, Papa.”

“And me?” Tater grinned, heading toward the kitchen. Jack trailed after him, hugging Amèlie close.

“And you, Uncle ‘Lexi.” She smiled. “So does the snowman really take my letter all the way to Santa Claus?”

“Mhm. When I was your age, I was thinking maybe he mailed them. But no! My babulya set me straight. He hurry all the way up to Santa and back while you're asleep.”

Eric was sitting at the table tapping away at his laptop, smiling absently at the conversation going on around him. “Welcome home, honey.” Jack leaned down and kissed him. “How was the flight?”

“Too long,” Alexei grumbled, digging through the curio cabinet drawers. “Where is paper hiding?”

“One more drawer down,” Jack said.

“How’s your hip?” Restrained worry shone in Eric’s eyes.

Jack tutted at Eric, chiding him for fretting, and brushed his blond hair away from his forehead. “The hit looked a lot worse than it was.” Wriggling, Amèlie silently asked to be let down before her fathers could get any more affectionate. Jack set her on the floor so she could scramble off to help Alexei. He pulled a chair close to Eric and sat. His eyes were distant. “I’m still very achy, though,” he murmured. A small frown deepening the soft lines around his eyes, Eric touched his husband’s knee and they shared a long look.

“It's your call, you know. No one else’s.” He scoffed good-naturedly. “Not even mine, wish as I might.”

Jack looked across the table at where Alexei and Amèlie were each writing a letter and animatedly sharing each addition with the other. Alexei had already announced that he was planning to finish this season and retire, and he didn't want to think about not having him backing him up anymore. He shook his head, looked back at Eric, and smiled softly. “Gotta make it to forty. It's a Zimmermann tradition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I talked with a few friends of mine who 1) spent the first part of her life in Russia and 2) study Russia and Russian culture about different traditions surrounding the holidays in Russia and the one most relevant to Tater's lukewarm reaction to missing December 25 with Kent is that the holidays aren't really celebrated until January! So he's not being savage, he's just okay with it because he's not used to celebrating that early either way!  
> So, thank you Ashley and Rita! And double thanks to Ashley for going through this after I was done and making sure Tater made sense :X


	5. Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Adam.”
> 
> “Eric, if you’re making my big Jewish ass dress as Santa, you will deal with my jokes.”
> 
> “Fair.”

“She won’t do it, Bits.” Jack shook his head at his husband while he folded shirts. “You remember last year.” He grinned.

Eric shuddered, frowning up at Jack from his spot on the bed. “Don’t remind me.” Amèlie had gone berserk on the Santa they’d tried to get her picture with. When his nose bled, he assured them that she hadn’t actually hit him _that_ hard, his nose was just dried out from the cold weather. Jack was tickled. Eric, not so much.

He pressed a pair of slacks into Jack’s suitcase and picked up a shirt to refold. “Momma and Coach would just love it, though.”

Jack’s brow furrowed for a long moment. His eyes lit up. “I may have a solution.”

***

“I have one question,” Adam mumbled through the thick beard, scratching at his neck and grinning. “Does this give me free rein-deer to call you all my ho-ho-hoes?”

Justin smacked his arm. “You’re a dumbass.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Adam put his hands on Justin’s hips and pulled him against him. “That’s how you get a ticket straight to the top of my naughty list, Mr. Oluransi.”

“I really don’t feel like explaining to Ami why she saw Uncle Justin cheating on Uncle Adam with Santa Claus, so can you two leave some room for Jesus?” Eric put his hands on his hips and frowned at the two of them. Adam raised both his hands and took a step back from Justin, trying not to laugh.

“You can sit on my lap and tell me what you want later babe,” Adam choked out, trying not to laugh. Justin snorted into his fist before straightening his face and acting like he’d not reacted.

“ _Adam_.”

“ _Eric_ , if you’re making my big Jewish ass dress as Santa, you will deal with my jokes.”

“Fair.” The sound of the garage door opening floated through to the living room, and Eric clapped his hands. “They’re back from shopping!”

“Where do I sit? What do I do?” Adam’s eyes were wide behind the half-moon spectacles he’d switched out his glasses for and he threw his arms out toward his husband. “I can’t see for shit and I don’t want to trip. Rans, help.”  Justin made sure he didn’t trip over anything as he made his way over to sit in the wingback armchair next to the fire.

“Just sit in the armchair and act like your grandpa,” Eric said, checking for the fourth time that the battery in Jack’s camera was charged. Adam immediately threw his head back on the chair and pantomimed snoring, then sat up sputtering.

“Martha, get me another glass of bourbon, woman!”

“Adam I swear on everything that is good and holy-”

“Daddy, I know something you don’t know!” Amèlie came skipping into the room and stopped short, smile melting off of her face. She cocked an eyebrow. “Why is Uncle Adam dressed as Santa?” Eric blanched, looking over at Jack as he followed her into the room loaded down with bags. He shrugged at his frustrated husband, the plastic rustling.

“Honey, that’s not Uncle Adam, that’s Santa!”

“Then why is Uncle Justin here and Uncle Adam _isn’t_ ,” she said, making scare quotes with her fingers as she said the last word. “And their truck is out front.” She crossed her arms and smiled.

“Bitty, you’re bad at being sneaky.” Adam shook his head and laughed. “Ami, will you come sit on my lap so we can get pictures of you with Santa Claus for your grandparents?”

“Yeah!” She crossed the room and he lifted her onto his lap.

“Why didn’t we just do this from the beginning?” Jack asked Eric, laughing as he set the shopping bags on the floor.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Eric huffed, shoving the camera at him and crossing his arms.


	6. Stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Daddy?” Amèlie was still standing where she was when she took the stocking.
> 
> “Yes?” He hung Shitty and Larissa’s on the same side of the mantle as his own.
> 
> “Why is Uncle Kent’s stocking new?”

 

He scratched his fingernail determinedly against the small bit of residue left on the deep red stocking from the proof of purchase sticker. “Ami, come help put the stockings on the hooks, please!” She scampered down into the living room from upstairs and started sorting through the large pile of soft fabric on the couch to find the deep blue ones with her and her parents’ names on them. 

Eric had what some might refer to as a problem. He was overfond of a few things in his life: his family, his friends, baking, and the holidays. Happily, Amèlie had taken to the October-January stretch with just as much enthusiasm as her father had as a child. It was nice to have her help and excitement around every day, especially when Jack was gone. 

She stretched up to catch the loop of her Papa’s stocking on the hook that Eric had set on the mantle before calling her in. “What time does Papa get home?” She skipped back over to the couch and picked up Eric’s stocking, petting the soft velvet around the top as she walked it back over to the fireplace.

“After your bedtime, baby girl.” She frowned at him, crinkling her nose, and he responded in kind. “I’m right there with you, honey.” Finally satisfied that the bits of sticker had been eradicated, he turned it over, rubbing his thumb over the curl at the bottom of the calligraphic ‘t’ embroidered on the cuff. He looked up at his daughter, adjusting her stocking so it fell the same way her fathers’ already were, and smiled. “Where’s your Uncle Tater’s stocking going this year?”

She walked back to the couch and picked up the green cabled stocking with ‘Alexei’ stitched across the top, tapping her finger to her chin and turning back to the fireplace. “On the right, because he plays on Papa’s right.” She crossed the space between herself and the column of hooks on the wall and hung Alexei’s on the highest one she could reach. 

“Want to hang this one up for me, too?” He held it out to her and she took it, reading the name. He got up and made to hang the rest of the stockings up.

“Daddy?” Amèlie was still standing where she was when she took the stocking.

“Yes?” He hung Shitty and Larissa’s on the same side of the mantle as his own.

“Why is Uncle Kent’s stocking new?” 

Eric took a deep breath and held it, adjusting the rich purple stocking with ‘Larissa’ along the longest seam. “Well honey, me and your Papa and Kent didn’t always get along so well.” The breath whooshed out of him.

“Why not?” Ami was still hugging the stocking close. Eric turned and sat down on the edge of the hearth, holding his hands out to his daughter. She set the decoration down and climbed into his lap. 

“You know how your father and Kent played hockey on the same team when they were young?” She nodded. “Well, they got in a big fight once and never really talked about it afterwards, and neither of them apologized for a long time. So, when Papa and I started dating, I was really angry at Kent because he’d hurt your dad’s feelings.”

“Oh,” Amelie said, frowning.

“But,” he paused to kiss her head, “a few years ago, right after you were born, they sat down and talked about everything and finally apologized. It took me a little while to warm up to him, but everything’s okay now.”

“But why did you just buy his stocking this year if it’s been a little while?”

“Because he’s never accepted my invitations to Christmas until this year.”

Amelie’s face lit up. “Uncle Kent will be here for Christmas?” She jumped up out of his lap.

Eric laughed. “For a few days. He and Tater are spending some time here with us and your father’s other teammates and then flying out to Las Vegas to do the same thing with Kent’s teammates.” Still grinning, she picked up the stocking off of the hearth and hung it up right below Alexei’s.

“Well, now we’re ready for him!” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed her work. “Wait, where are Uncle Adam and Uncle Justin’s stockings?” She bounced back over to the couch and grabbed the last two. “Daddy, I can’t reach the top hangers. Can you lift me?”

He picked her up so she could place Adam’s stocking above Shitty’s, still wondering at how simple everything had sounded when he explained it to her. If only it’d all seemed so simple before. He kissed her cheek and shifted her to his hip so he could hand her Justin’s. She hung it above Alexei’s and smiled. “All finished.”

He squeezed her close and she threw her arms around his neck, hugging back. “Thank you for your help, Ami.” He peppered her cheek with kisses.

She giggled and pushed his face away to press a kiss of her own to his cheek. “Anytime, Daddy.”

 


	7. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The longer y’all talk, the more ammo they’ll have amassed.” Eric knelt in the snow and started packing snowballs.
> 
> “Alright, well I’m the ringleader here.” Adam puffed his chest out. “I have a cunning plan.”
> 
> “We’re all gonna die,” Larissa deadpanned.

“Alright, alright,” Holster panted, back against the outside of the house. He held a hand against Amèlie’s puffy jacket to keep her behind him and peeked around for a quick second before slamming back against the house. “So the plan is-”

“Don’t get your shit rocked by your dad,” Shitty interrupted, hands thrown out like he was about to cup Amèlie’s face in his hands. “If that big Canadian bastard gets you once, then he’s pretty much locked onto you. Snow is like a homing beacon for Canucks.” She nodded decisively.

“Shitty, you’re gonna blow our cover.” Holster drew his hand across his neck slowly and made a disgusting choking sound.

“Dude, we’re up against two Canadians and a Russian and we’ve got two munchkins and a certified ray of Georgia sunshine over here-”

“I resent that,” Eric griped.

“-Cover being blown is the least of our worries.”

“The longer y’all talk, the more ammo they’ll have amassed.” Eric knelt in the snow and started packing snowballs.

“Alright, well I’m the ringleader here.” Adam puffed his chest out. “I have a cunning plan.”

“We’re all gonna die,” Larissa deadpanned.

***

Having finished setting up shop on the small hill in the backyard where Amèlie’s swingset and slide were, Jack, Justin, and Alexei were bundled up behind the wall they’d constructed and packing together snowballs.

“Alexei, that’s like the size of my head. You can’t throw that at Lardo or Bits, bro,” Justin said.

“I know. This is for your husband.” Alexei grinned, packing even more snow onto the enormous frozen projectile.

Justin shrugged. “All’s fair, I guess.”

Jack made a contented noise and sat back into the snow, nodding at the veritable mountain of snowballs he’d put together over the last few minutes. “Y’all are paying attention, right?”

“‘Y’all,’” Justin snickered, but he leaned up and peered over the wall. “Yeah, I don’t see anything.”

***

“They’ll never see it coming,” Shitty breathed, his breath curling out into the air. “It’s genius.” He clasped his hands in prayer and bowed his head toward Adam, peeking around the corner of the house behind Jack and Eric’s. He watched as Justin leaned up and scanned the yard, biting his glove to keep from giggling.

“The timing has to be perfect.” There was fire in Adam’s eyes. “I will not lose to him-them. I will not lose to _them_ again. My Buffalo pride can’t handle losing another snow battle. The Sabres record so far this season is hurting me enough.”

“You’re a terrible person and you’re never babysitting my daughter again,” Eric huffed.

“Bitty, it was your idea to-”

“ _Let me deflect my guilt in peace, Adam Oluransi.”_

***

“We’ve got movement.” Justin hunkered down and picked up a pair of snowballs in each hand. Jack tucked a few into the crook of his left arm, keeping one in his right hand. Alexei picked up the enormous snow boulder he’d been steadily working on, but set it down when he saw it wasn’t Adam kicking his way across the lawn.

Amèlie was trudging determinedly through the snow, armed with a snowball in each hand. Her hair was messy, coming out of the braids Jack’d put it in earlier. She blew her bangs up out of her face and marched on.

Justin looked over at Jack, observing the way his friend’s icy eyes had turned to big puddles. “Hold steady, man, don’t let her get to you.”

Jack looked over at Ransom and frowned. “Look how hard she’s trying though, Rans, just look at her.”

“Itty bitty is putting in all her effort,” Alexei said proudly.

“You two are the worst,” Justin muttered, packing a snowball. “I love her, but she’s still the enemy.” He cocked his arm back.

“No!”

Justin froze, looking wildly around him, unable to find the source of the voice until it was too late.

“DON’T YOU DARE, JUSTIN!” Eric barrelled into Justin, knocking him off balance. Both of them crashed through the wall of snow that they’d built up to guard against their opponents.

Jack froze for a moment before bursting into loud laughter that echoed off the snow-covered yard.

“This wasn’t the plan!” Holster said while high-knee sprinting his way through the snow, looking all the world like a big blond moose. “This wasn’t the plan but this works!” He tackled Jack over, immediately stuffing snow down the back of his friend’s jacket.

Jack hooked his arm under Adam and rolled until he had the bigger man pinned beneath him. “Eat snow, Buffalo!” He started shoving fistfuls of the powder into Adam’s face, still laughing and grinning.

Bitty had somehow gotten Justin stuck in the snow and he was now helping Amèlie pelt her uncle with snow. Larissa was packing snowballs back near the neighbor’s house and Shitty was chucking them at Alexei and Jack's heads as quickly as she could make them. Alexei, meanwhile, had gone and plunked himself down next to Amèlie and was helping her make snowballs.

“Defector!” Justin hollered.

“When I see winning team, I pick winning team. Is why I never bet on the Leafs!”

“You big bastard-” Justin yanked his arm out from beneath the drift Eric’d buried him in.

“Rans, watch it!”

“Sorry Jack.” He picked up the enormous snowball that Alexei had abandoned. “You enormous jerk! Don’t you diss my team!” He sprinted towards Alexei, tripped, and flung the snow-boulder at the Russian and the giggling little girl. Alexei caught it handily and stood, tromping his way over to where Justin was face down.

“Ransom, you almost hit the baby. For that, you must be punished.” He aligned the snowball over Justin’s head, pulled off his hat, and dropped it.

Holster bellowed from where he was nearly buried beneath Jack. “THE CAPTAIN IS DOWN! WE ARE VICTORIOUS!”

Justin grumbled inaudibly from beneath the broken pile of snow, waving his hand towards his husband in defeated dismissal.


	8. Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earlier, the living room had been full of hustle and bustle.

Earlier, the living room had been full of hustle and bustle. From the moment Jack kicked the door open to drag the trunk-end of the tree into the living room to the moment he and Adam lifted Amèlie to put the angel on the top of the tree, they’d been going and going and going. There had been spare branches to be trimmed,  garland to be strung, lights to be wrangled into submission. There’d been bountiful food for their bountiful guests, music – both from one of Eric’s playlists and that they’d all sung together – and, after a while, a few bottles of wine amongst the adults.

But now, it was just Jack, his husband, and their daughter curled in a sleepy little knot on the couch. He’d actually had a few glasses of the pinot, and his feet and nose were pleasantly warm. The places where Eric was tucked against him buzzed more thickly than they normally did. Eric’s head was heavy on his shoulder, and Jack kissed his temple, reveling in the way his lips tingled.

Earlier, the tree had been bare. They’d found it out in the farthest corner of the cut-your-own lot they’d gone to, just the three of them. It had a bald spot on one side near the middle, but from every other angle was perfect. The bushy bottom of the tree tapered elegantly up to a snow-capped top. It was neither too thin nor too thick, and the branches were strong and dense. Amèlie had completely refused to go any further, begging her fathers to bring this particular tree home. Eric had notched the trunk with the ax he’d brought along and cheerfully chopped away at the opposite side of the tree until it tipped to the ground, snow billowing off of it into the air.

But now, the soft white lights tucked within the branches were casting gentle shadows of pine needles and the shapes of the lacy garland on the wall. Ornaments they’d been given by their parents when they moved in together were mixed in with the ornaments Amèlie had been given or made and ones Eric and Jack had purchased themselves over the last eleven Christmases, all sparkling and twinkling cheekily at them from across the room.

Earlier, it hadn't yet felt like Christmas to Jack. But now, he was so impatient for that morning to roll around that he could hardly stand it. Earlier, he kept getting distracted by the game he had tomorrow night. But now, it was easy to put hockey on the back burner and just enjoy the soft shadows playing across the faces of his husband and daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! I hope you're enjoying reading these as much as I'm enjoying writing them.  
> Thank you to Robin & Ashley for betaing & cheerreading - you two are the bomb.com.


	9. Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric leaned back against Jack’s chest, reveling in the warmth his husband harbored. Already two slowly-drained glasses of mulled wine in, his skin was pleasantly tingly and his eyelids were heavy

“Okay and this side, gimel, means you get all the gelt in the middle.”

“Alright, so if it lands on this side up, I take all your chocolate?” Shitty said, propping himself up on his elbows and reaching across to plunder Adam’s bank of foil-wrapped coins. Adam swatted his hand. 

“No, you bastard.” He scooped up Shitty’s coins, dropping three into the pile in the center of the little group gathered in front of the fireplace. “It means you have to put one in the center.”

“Why’d you take three?”

“Because you’re being a dick!” Adam laughed.

Eric leaned back against Jack’s chest, reveling in the warmth his husband harbored. Already two slowly-drained glasses of mulled wine in, his skin was pleasantly tingly and his eyelids were heavy. They were perched in the window seat, up above the circle of their friends on the floor.

“Alright Rans, spin,” Shitty sighed, dropping the dreidel in his friend’s open palm. Justin twisted the stem of the little wooden top and grinned wide when it fell.

“Shin, baby!” He counted out the center pieces. “One for me, one for the pot. One for me, one for the pot. One for me…”

“Okay, okay, we get it Justin, you’re winning all the chocolate.” Shitty took a swig of his wine and put his face back in the pillow he’d been snuggling. Lardo reached over from her seat on his back and plucked one of Shitty’s few remaining coins from the pile, unwrapping it and popping it in her mouth.

“Actually he’s only winning half of the chocolate, Shits. Keep up,” Adam teased. He spun the dreidel and shrugged when the side with the  _ nun _ landed face-up. He gathered one from each pile and dropped them in the center. “Your turn, Tater.”

Alexei set the toy on the floor, balanced upright by his fingertip on the stem, and took a long drink of his wine. He passed the overlarge mug to Kent. “Here, you hold this and watch while I win dreidel, too,” he teased, recalling the game from earlier in the evening.

“We lost in overtime.” Kent pouted while Alexei triumphantly gathered all but one piece from the pot.

“Still a loss, Kent.” Jack chuckled, stealing a small sip from Eric’s glass.

“Still a point, Jack.” Kent waggled his eyebrows up at Jack over the rim of his and Alexei’s mug.

Eric hummed and nestled back against Jack. “Either way, I’m glad y’all’re all on this coast for tonight. S’nice.” He knew the heady feeling in his chest was due in part to the alcohol, but there was something deeper-seated flooding him, slow and sweet. He looked around at the little hodge-podge of people gathered on his hearth - and on each other, in Lardo’s case - and swallowed down tears.

“Bits, you okay?” Jack breathed in his ear. Eric shivered and nodded.

“Yeah,” he answered softly, grinning as Justin kissed Adam’s cheek and gathered up a handful of gelt. “Just happy.”


	10. Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is December the tenth. It is a Friday. Eric Bittle is going off his head, but no one needs to know that.

On average, Eric Bittle’s self-owned and operated bakery experiences a mild increase in its already steady foot traffic over weekends, and that increase is much larger when it’s cold outside. On average, his call-in and online orders peak right around December thirteenth every year. It is December the tenth. It is a Friday. Eric Bittle is going off his head, but no one needs to know that.

“William!” Eric finishes making change for the man standing in front of him. “Thank you for your continued business, Mr. Vincent, and have a happy holiday!”

Mr. Vincent smiles and nods, revealing the glint of his gold tooth, and gathers up his overlarge bag of tarts and cookies. “Happy holidays to you too, Mr. Bittle.”

The next person in line steps up, holding a giant folder. Eric stifles the ‘yikes’ he wants to spit. Mrs. Eisling’s daughter was getting married in a week and the overbearing parent had been in here every day for the last three days checking in on the orders they’d made back in September. “One moment please, ma’am,” Eric grins at her, trying to disarm the thinly veiled impatience on her face, and ducks back into the kitchen. “Dex, how’re those cranberry cookies doing?”

William peeks his head up over the counter. “They’re doing fine. Still in batter form, but they’re doing pretty alright.”

Eric’s stomach drops sharply. “Scusi? What do you mean?” He crosses kitchen and sees what the big island had been hiding: Will half buried in his toolbox and the oven’s bottom dismantled.

“The oven is being finicky again. Same issue with the thermostat; I ordered a new one last week and I’ll have it in in about ten or fifteen minutes?” Will looks up at him, wincing. “Tops?”

Eric scrubs his face with his hands and nodded. “That’ll have to do. Can you call Theo in, too, for me? We need more hands on deck than we’ve got. And don’t forget to pull and sugar the bread in a few minutes. And-”

“Bitty.” Will smiles his cranky smile at the oven as he tinkers away. “Breathe. This happens every year, and every year we make it. It’ll be okay.”

Eric rolls his eyes and smiles fondly, grabbing a basket of decorated sugar cookies to replace the almost depleted one in the front display. “When did you decide to calm down?”

“It’s been five years since Nurse moved in,” Will calls after Eric as the blond man leaves the kitchen.

Eric shakes his head and lifts the near empty basket of cookies out of the way with one hand, setting the new basket smoothly in its place.

“Alright, ma’am! Now: how can I help you?” He winces internally as her entitled frown starts to wrap itself around words.

***

Sweeping in nothing but the soft glow from the string lights he’d hung around the perimeter of the sale room may’ve not been the most efficient decision, but Eric needs the romance. The day was long, the people were rude, and the oven had continued to be a brat throughout the day, slowing their production speed and leaving him with no choice but to plan to come in early both Saturday and Sunday to catch up on their bountiful holiday orders.

The back door to the shop swings open and Eric glances back over his shoulder. “Oh, hey, Nursey.”

Derek sidles over and wraps Eric in a tight hug, kissing his cheek. “How’s it?”

“Not so hot.” Eric huffs, jabbing the broom forward. “Marjorie Eisling was in here no less than four times today bitching at me about whether or not I knew better than to put anything other than her daughter’s colors on the cupcakes they’re getting for the wedding, making sure I use the exact recipe she taste tested, chastising me for not giving her immediate attention when I was braiding pastry, oh - and can she please have fresh cookies and not _these_ ones?”

Derek takes the broom away. “Bitty, the floor didn’t do anything to you, man.” He grins. “You seen my boyfriend around anywhere?”

“He’s back in the kitchen. Debbie’s being a shit today.”

“Ah damn, the oven went out too?” He frowns and slings an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you know how it is. This weekend’s always the worst.”  He crosses and starts to straighten the sealed sweetbreads on the shelf against the back wall.

“Can’t help that Jack’s out of town either, I know.” Derek joins him, straightening the top shelves.

“No, it really doesn’t. I hate December roadies.”

“Well,” Derek says, finishing up tidying the topmost part of the display, “what say you, Dex, and I go grab some dinner after you’re done closing? Our treat. You look like you need to sit down and nibble at something you didn’t make.”

“Somebody say something about food?” Will comes out of the kitchen, drying his hands on his apron. “Done with the dough prep for the morning, Bitty. Everything’s in the little fridge and ready for you.” He pecks Derek’s lips. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Derek pulls him back in and kisses him more solidly. “Offered to wine and dine your boss, hope that’s alright?”

“Please do, we both got our asses handed to us today.” Will scowls as he undoes the knot in his apron straps. He heads back towards the kitchen to hang up his apron. “Emphasis on the wine, yeah?” Derek follows him.

Eric smiles at the two of them and goes to tuck the broom into the cleaning closet. “Thanks, you two.” He shrugs into his coat and tugs on his mittens, checking his phone. He rests his finger on the light switch. “You two ready to go?”

Something crashes in the kitchen. “Derek, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Guess that’s a no, then.”


	11. Carols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether it was her latest favorite Disney soundtrack or nursery songs, if she wasn't talking, she was singing. As the weather got colder, Christmas music started to sneak its way into her rotation until it was the majority of her set list.

Having been a surprisingly quiet and calm baby, it was only fair that once Amèlie learned to talk, she never stopped. In the beginning, it had been a hilarious mishmash of English and French that had Eric pulling out his hair and making video calls to his husband at all hours of the night, but eventually Amèlie learned that Daddy’s French comprehension was still hit or miss and to only chat with her Papa in her messy franglais.

This constant language eventually bled over into singing. Whether it was her latest favorite Disney soundtrack or nursery songs, if she wasn't talking, she was singing. As the weather got colder, Christmas music started to sneak its way into her rotation until it was the majority of her set list.

_Let it Snow_ while her Papa brushed her hair into pigtails, _Up on the Housetop_ while she helped her Daddy press candies into the roofs of gingerbread houses for his storefront display, _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_ to her Aunt Larissa while she wraps her fathers’ presents. Uncle Shitty tried to teach her _I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas_ , but it didn't really stick as she didn't see the point of asking for an enormous animal for Christmas when she could ask for something sensible, like ice skates or a pony. Also, that was a lot of consonants.

Her favorite, though, was when her Papa would sing her to sleep. He’d told her that he’d been doing it since she was born, and sometimes she liked to think that the first thing she remembered was his soft voice waking her late after her bedtime, one of the many nights his plane had landed after she’d fallen asleep, and singing softly to her somewhere in between English and French. Around the holidays, he’d sing softer carols to her as she snoozed in his arms. She refused to sing _Silent Night_ or _The First Noel_ or _O Holy Night_ because her Papa’s voice sounded so pretty when he sang them.

***

“How long has she been out?” Jack shrugged out of his coat and crossed to the couch to sit next to his husband and take his boots off. Amèlie was curled up like a cat on Eric’s lap, snuffling gently.

“Just a little while. She tried so hard to wait up for you, honey,” Eric murmured, running his fingers through the fine hair behind her temples. She nuzzled her face against his belly and they both smiled softly down at her. “You want to put her to bed?”

Jack nodded and leaned over to press his lips against Eric’s. “I’ll get her all set and then I’m coming back to take you to bed, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Eyes sparkling, Eric raised an eyebrow. “Is that so now, Mr. Zimmermann?” He smiled softly and leaned back, raising his arms to give Jack room to get to Amèlie. “I’ll make your job a little easier and meet you up there, yeah? And I’ll get your bag.”

Jack slid his arms under their daughter, picking her up and cradling her against his chest. She snuggled closer to him, trying to keep in the warmth she’d amassed tucked against Eric. He studied her sleeping face and a small frown snuck across his lips. “She’s growing so much, Bits. I feel like every time I leave, when I come back, she’s an entirely new person.”

Eric frowned and nodded. “To be fair, some days I leave for work in the morning and by the time I get home that night, it looks like she’s grown an inch.” He hugged Jack and pressed up on his toes to kiss behind his ear. “Quit kicking your own butt, baby. It’s okay.”

Jack smiled down at Eric, blinking back guilty tears, and nodded once.

“Go put her to bed, and I’ll see you upstairs. I’ll lock the doors and get the lights.”

***

Jack bumped the bedroom door open with his hip and squatted down to flick the switch on the nightlight before lumbering across the room. He reached down with one hand and threw back the comforter. Leaning down to set her against the pillows, Jack paused, his hip and heart aching, and thought better of it. He climbed into the bed, blindly adjusted the pillows so the headboard wouldn’t press into his back, and settled there with her against his chest. He leaned forward and grabbed her blankets, tucking them in around the two of them.

Amèlie shifted and groaned quietly. “Papa?”

“ _Yeah, baby girl, it’s me._ ”

“ _When did you get home?_ ” Her voice was sleep-muddled and stumbly.

“ _Just a few minutes ago. It’s late, go back to sleep.”_ He ducked down to kiss her head.

“ _Will you sing to me, Papa?_ ”

“ _Of course, dearest.”_

He snuggled her closer and leaned back against the headboard again, thinking for a moment before starting to softly sing the first lines of _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_. She hummed along weakly for the first few bars before drifting back off into deeper sleep.

By the time Jack finished the song, he was almost entirely asleep himself. The strip of the hall light that was across the blue and white bedspread disappeared, and he blinked, looking up at the door.

Eric leaned against the doorframe, smiling at the two of them, eyes glittering with tears. “Want to bring her to bed with us?”

Jack shook his head. “She just got back to sleep, Bits.” He yawned and slid off the bed from behind her, laying her up against the pillows and tucking the blanket in tight around her. She pressed her face into the hem of the blanket and snored softly. Leaning down, he brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. He straightened up, crossing his arms for a moment before swiping at his face with the back of his hand.

Eric crossed the room and leaned down to kiss her hair. He laced his fingers through Jack’s and tugged him toward the door. “Let’s go to bed, honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two chapters today because I may have gotten drunk watching the Stars game last night and given myself a free pass...whoops. So here's eleven, and twelve will be up later today!
> 
> Remember that full sentences or phrases in italics are spoken in French.
> 
> Thank you for your comments and kudos and thanks to those who are reading this as a WIP - y'all are the bomb.


	12. Vintage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Elvis or Nat King Cole?”
> 
> “Do you even have to ask?”

“Bits, what is that?” Justin pointed with his chin to the bulky piece of furniture in the corner. “Looks like a buffet table or something.” He cut the wrapping paper, neatly sliding the scissors up past the box he’d measured to cover. They were on the floor of Jack and Eric’s room, surrounded by unwrapped gifts, bows, tape, and ribbon.

“That’s Jack’s great grandmother’s record player.” Eric pinched flat ribbon between his thumb and the blade of the scissors and pulled with his other hand, smiling in satisfaction at the pretty spiral the stripping left behind. 

“Got any records for it?”

“Yeah, actually. Christmas ones, too.” Eric pushed himself up off the floor, taking a moment to rub at his bad knee once he was standing. 

“You alright, Bitty?” Justin frowned at his friend, knowing how temperamental the old injury could be. 

“I should know better than to sit on the floor for so long without stretching,” Eric said, shaking his head. “I'm fine, quit worrying over me like that.” He flipped open one of the built-in storage cubbies on the top of the old stereo system and rifled through faded record sleeves, pulling up two festively colored ones and turning back to Justin. “Elvis or Nat King Cole?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He pointed at the Nat King Cole album in his left hand and grinned. “The real king, every time.”

“I never much cared for Elvis either,” Eric said as he replaced the Presley case in the cubby and shook the record from the other sleeve. “My Moomaw just adored him but I always thought he sounds like he’s about to sneeze or something.”

Justin laughed, setting aside a neatly wrapped box. “That’s a good way to put it.”

Eric set the record on the table, flicked the switch to start the record turning, and set the needle on the vinyl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no personal vendetta against Elvis Presley.


	13. Festive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I only needed butter, Lardo, I don't know what happened.”

Eric stood in front of the dairy display with his hands on his hips, softly tapping his foot and mentally calculating just how much butter he was going to need for the massive amounts of cookies he was planning to send out to Jack’s teammates and their families. He started gathering boxes into his arms before giving up and replacing them all. “C’mon, honey bunch,” he said, linking his and Amèlie’s hands and pulling her away from the brightly colored kids’ yogurt display. “We gotta get a cart.”

They walked towards the front of the store, taking a shortcut through the seasonally-stocked aisle.

“Oh, Daddy, look at this!” Amèlie tugged at Eric’s hand, pointing at a jauntily packaged pine bough wreath.

“We’ve already got a wreath for the door, baby girl,” Eric said, frowning and starting forward again.

“But not for the back door.” She grinned up at him. “Please? It’s so pretty, and there’s gold on it like there is on the other one.”

He sighed. “C’mon, we’ll come back for it. We still need to get the cart.”

Eric took the long way back to the butter shelf, missing the seasonal aisle in favor of grabbing some extra cinnamon before the butter. He stacked box upon box of Land O’Lakes into the cart around Ami, who was frowning up at her dad.

“Daddy.”

“Amèlie.”

“Don't forget the wreath,” she pouted.

He smiled, bemused. “Alright, honey, let's go get it.”

***

“Jack,” Eric called from the door that linked the garage and kitchen. “You home?”

“Nah,” Larissa called back.  “Jack’s at the rink. Rode over with Tater.” She padded towards the garage, tucking the paintbrush she was holding into her apron. “I'm stealing the light in your sunroom though. What's -oh.”

“I only needed butter, Lardo, I don't know what happened.” Eric was standing in front of the open back of his SUV. Boxes on boxes of lights, a pine bough wreath with a gold bow and trimmings, and a little blue pre-lit tree and all the ornaments it could possibly bear were stacked up and close to toppling out.

“I have my own tree for my room now, Aunt Larissa!” Amèlie cheered, grabbed a box of ornaments, and marched into the house.

Larissa laughed. “ _That’s_ what happened, Bitty.”

“She may have started it,” he said, grinning guiltily, “but I finished it.” He grabbed two handfuls of bags and passed them off to Larissa’s waiting hands. “The stuff for mulled wine is in with some of the butter, and I may or may not have gotten the ingredients for baklava.” He picked up the tree box by the handle and looped his hand through the remaining bag handles, following her into the kitchen.

“Let me finish up on the piece I’m polishing and I’ll come help you bake.” She set the bags down on the kitchen island. “How much have you got to do?”

Eric glared at her from across the room and then winced, giggling apologetically. “All of the platters for Jack’s teammates? I want to have them done in the next two days so we can bring them all by the rink on Saturday night after the game.”

Larissa paled. “Well, okay.”

Amèlie came skipping down the stairs. “Aunt Larissa, will you please come help me put my tree together?” She walked over to where the box was sitting and tried her best to pick it up, resolving instead to drag it to the stairs.

“Yes ma’am,” Larissa laughed. “Let me get my paints covered and I'll be right up.” She grinned at Eric and shook her head, shrugging. “I’ve been drafted, sir.”

“I'll put the butter out to soften and start in on the wine. You ladies enjoy yourself,” Eric said, digging through the bags and pulling out a pair of oranges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The seasonal aisle at Kroger got pilfered last night when Ashley, Robin, Alison, and I went on a butter run. We needed four sticks of butter. We left with that and eight boxes of lights, a box of new ornaments, and also some queso.


	14. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2:38 AM, December 19. He touched the empty pillow across from him and frowned, shivering again.

Eric shivered, curling into a little ball around the pillow he was hugging. He felt blindly around behind him on the nightstand for his cell phone and checked the clock for what felt like the thousandth time that night. _2:38 AM, December 19._ He touched the empty pillow across from him and frowned, shivering again.

Jack was on an airplane somewhere between Ottawa and Boston, probably napping uncomfortably, long legs stretched out in front of him, suit rubbing uncomfortably at his endlessly sore lower back. He’d be home when Eric woke up, if he could get to sleep in the first place. The bed was big and cold without Jack’s warm frame to curl around and, no matter how many nights he slept alone, it never quite felt right. Normally he could brush it off, ignore it, fall asleep anyway with enough pillows tucked tight to his front. Tonight, though, it appeared he was waiting up for his husband whether he wanted to or not. Something about being alone in their bed this close to Christmas wouldn’t let him sleep. He huffed.

“Daddy?” Amèlie peeked around the wooden door, one hand rubbing her eye.

Eric sat up in bed and turned the lamp on. “Come on in, honey.” She shuffled across the room to her father and put her hands up. He scooped her up into his lap and kissed the top of her head, snuggling her into him and tucking the blanket over both of them. “What’s the matter, sugar?”

“Can’t sleep.” She sighed sharply and he smiled at how similar the mannerism was to his own expression of frustration a few moments before she’d come in. She may have been biologically Jack’s, but she was a complete melting pot of the two of them. He hugged her tighter.

“D’you miss your Papa?” She nodded. “Me too.”

“Can I sleep in here?” She pouted up at him. “I know I’m a big girl, but please?”

Eric’s eyes pricked. She was getting too big too quickly. “Of course, darlin’. Here, you can have your Papa’s pillow.” He tugged Jack’s favorite pillow closer to his own and let her slide off his lap and nuzzle her face into the soft down.

“It smells like him,” she yawned, already getting drowsy. Eric turned the lamp off and stretched, tucking himself back down under the heavy comforter.

“C’mere, baby doll.” He pulled her against his chest and peppered her cheeks and forehead with kisses. She giggled sleepily, pressing her hand to his face in mock protest. The soft warmth of her bundled up against his chest was making him blessedly, thickly drowsy. “When we wake up, your Papa will be home.”

***

“ _Tabarnak._ ”

Eric’s eyes fluttered open and alighted on Jack, trying very carefully to slip into bed without waking the two of them. “Hi, love,” he murmured, leaning across to kiss Eric’s forehead, nose, lips. His accent was thicker; he’d stayed a few days with his parents between games. They’d Skyped a few times and Eric was overjoyed – if still a bit confused, after all these years – to watch Amèlie titter away in French with her grandmère and grandpère.

“Jack,” Eric breathed, lifting the comforter to make it easier. Amèlie let out a decidedly annoyed noise at the cold air and burrowed further into Eric’s embrace. Smiling, Jack scooted to the center of the bed, pressing his cold toes to Eric’s warm ones and tucking the comforter in tight around the three of them. “Missed you.” He yawned.

“Missed you two more.” Jack rested his arm over Eric’s ribs, raising a ceiling of blanket over Amèlie. “When did she come in?”

“What time is it?”

Jack lifted his arm and checked his fitness tracker. “Almost four.”

“About an hour ago.”

“Did she wake you?” Jack brushed his hand over Eric’s cheek.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.” Jack frowned at him and he frowned right back. “Don’t give me that face. I know.” Jack’s expression softened and he kissed Eric, kissed Amèlie’s hair, and settled down, eyes still open. Eric cocked an eyebrow, and Jack’s eyes glittered. “What?”

“It’s good to be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped yesterday and may or may not finish that chapter up at a later date and post it. I'm dealing with some not-so-fun personal stuff right now and my focus is not where it needs to be so posting may become a little more spotty, but we're going to try and not do that, yeah? Yeah. Agreed.


	15. Ornaments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You would get so mad, and your eyes were so big when you were little. You looked so silly when you were angry.”
> 
> “I looked so silly most times, Maman, be honest.” He grinned.

The four of them settled onto the couch, Amèlie in her grandfather’s lap and Jack and Alicia on either side of the two of them.

“When will Eric be home?” Alicia pulled a blanket over her lap and sipped her glass of cider. The firelight caught in her silver hair, and Jack had a fleeting moment of hopefulness that his hair was headed the same way, when it went.

“He said not to wait up for him; he’s catching up on a wedding order and said he was going to be out late.”

Alicia frowned, but nodded. “We’ll see him in the morning, then.”

Bob nodded in agreement, resting his head on top of Amèlie’s. “I might actually head over to the bakery later and give him a hand.”

“Papa, we both know you’ll just make a mess,” Jack teased.

“Right, but I miss my son in law. So.” Bob shrugged and smirked. “If he can get you to properly crimp pastry edges, he can tell me what to do.”

“That’s fair.” He smiled down at his granddaughter. “ _Well, dearest girl, are you ready to open your present?”_

Amèlie’s eyes darted to her Papa’s, hopeful and mischievous. “ _I can open a present?”_

_“Just the one your grandparents brought for you, love.”_

Alicia brought the little box up from the floor and handed it to Amèlie. The little girl started out unwrapping the box tidily, slipping her fingers under the tape and not tearing at the paper, but her excitement overcame her and she finished freeing the box from the paper with her nails.

“ _Oh, wow._ ”

The photo on the front of the little maroon box showed that it contained a little snow globe. A tiny girl with long brown hair skated alone on a frozen pond, and the water was filled with glitter and snowflake charms. Amèlie grinned up at her grandparents, completely enchanted.

“Merci, Grandmere! Merci, Grandpere!” She pecked each of their cheeks before hurrying over to the tree to hang up her newest ornament. Bob stood up and followed her over, chatting with her in rapid-fire French.

“What a beautiful girl you two have blessed us with,” Alicia said.

“She’s just growing so fast right now,” Jack said, frowning.

Alicia patted his forearm and rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “You sprouted up for the first time around that age, too, y’know.” She sighed. “It’s hard. It’s the first time it really hits you that your baby’s not going to stay little forever.” Giggling, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “You had to go and get enormous on me. It’s impossible for me to bundle you up now, like I used to.”

“You used to wrap me up in Papa’s shirts.” The corner of his mouth quirked up.

“And tuck in the bottom and the sleeves so you couldn’t wiggle around on me,” she said, laughing. “You would get so mad, and your eyes were so big when you were little. You looked so silly when you were angry.”

“I looked so silly most times, Maman, be honest.” He grinned.

Alicia laughed quietly, then paused and took in her son's face. “What’re you thinking, dearest? I can hear those wheels spinning.”

Jack sighed and shrugged. “I feel like I’m missing a lot, and I feel guilty. And angry, a little. At myself. It’s hard to watch your daughter grow up through pictures and videos.”

“That’s one of the reasons we waited until your dad knew he’d be retiring soon to start trying for you,” Alicia said. “He didn’t want to miss anything.”

“I don’t wish we’d waited,” he said with a soft smile on his face, “but I.” He took a deep breath. “I _am_ considering retiring soon, Maman.” His voice shook, and he let out the breath in a huff. “That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.”

Alicia gracefully masked her unsurprised reaction with a nod. “Thank you for telling me.” She cocked an eyebrow. “You haven’t even talked to Eric yet?”

“I’ve not said it in those many words, no, but we have talked about the idea. He’s...enthusiastic about it.”

Alicia smiled. “I remember how excited I was when your father retired. However,” she looked over at him, eyes imploring, “it’s a big adjustment. You’re going to have to make a lot of changes in your relationship. It’s hard, learning how to live with each other all year.”

“We did live together at school, Maman.”

“But you weren’t in a relationship. _And_ that was over ten years ago, now.” She took the last drink of her cider and set the glass on the ground. “You’ve just got to be purposeful. And give each other space when it’s needed.”

Bob held Amèlie up so she could tuck the ornament back to hang on a stronger branch.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m happy for you, honey,” her voice wavered a bit. “It’s been amazing to watch you learn to be easier on yourself over the years, and I’m so proud to see you making choices that you would’ve flat out denied ever considering a few years ago.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you. I know you’ll do what’s right for you.”

Amèlie ran back across the room and jumped into Jack’s arms. He wrapped her up and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you, too, Maman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Alicia Zimmermann with all my heart and she's going to be the raddest most stylish grandmother known to mankind someday.
> 
> Remember that things in italics are in French!


	16. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larissa padded in from the living room, enjoying the slip of her fuzzy socks against the hardwood floor. She stopped next to Shitty in the doorway. “Yes?”
> 
> He pointed up as an answer and she followed his finger. A sprig of mistletoe held together with a shiny red ribbon was hanging from the doorframe.

“Babe,” Shitty called. “C’mere.”

Larissa padded in from the living room, enjoying the slip of her fuzzy socks against the hardwood floor. She stopped next to Shitty in the doorway. “Yes?”

He pointed up as an answer and she followed his finger. A sprig of mistletoe held together with a shiny red ribbon was hanging from the doorframe. “Merry first married Christmas, beautiful.”

Larissa’s expression didn’t change, but she blushed. “Merry Christmas.” She stood on her tiptoes and he scooped her up in a tight hug, kissing her once, twice, three times on the lips. He tightened his arms around her and started peppering her face with kisses. Laughing, she put her hands on his chest and tried to wiggle out of his hold. Amèlie, arms loaded up with the sock monkeys she and Lardo had been making in the living room, tried to squeeze past her warring godparents.

“Whoa there, little miss, where do you think you’re going without Christmas kisses?” He freed his wife and kneeled to pull Amèlie into his arms. She dropped the stuffed animals and fought against him, laughing.

“Uncle Shitty, no! Your mustache tickles so bad!” He stopped, leaning back and loosening his hold on her.

“Alright. No Christmas kisses if you don’t want them.”  He smiled at her.

“Okay, Uncle Shitty.” She turned her cheek to him. “You can give me a kiss.” He pressed his lips to her cheek and helped her gather up the sock monkeys she’d thrown to stop him from putting his mustache on her face. 

“Who are these for?”

“They’re for, uh.” Amèlie concentrated for a moment. “There’s one for McKinley, and Chase, and Alex, and the little one is for Rose and the one that matches it is for Stella, and one for Nikki…”

“We’re going to make one for each of the kids to go over with the platters,” Lardo said, patting her husband’s shoulder. “Come on, Ami, we’ve got to keep working if we’re going to get done tonight.” Amèlie nodded and followed her godmother back out to the living room, and Shitty turned back to the kitchen, where Jack and Eric were bustling around multiple platters.

“You sure I can’t do anything to help?”

Eric shook his head emphatically, not looking up from the gingerbread ice skates he was tending to with a frosting bag. “Once everything is on the platters, you can help me put the foil and bows on.”

“I’m not cursed, Bitty.”

Eric looked at him, brows set. “Everything you touch burns.”

“There’s a weed joke in there somewhere, I’m just not going to be the one to make it.” Jack laughed and kept pressing hershey’s kisses into the peanut butter cookies. He looked over his shoulder to make sure his husband wasn’t paying attention and popped one in his mouth. Shitty raised his eyebrows and flicked his index finger down his other, chastising Jack. 

“I don’t believe-” Shitty started, then paused. Jack set his meanest stare on his best friend, threatening him with every bit of energy he had. “-That you have yet to let me give you a Christmas kiss under the mistletoe, Jacky. It’d really be a shame if-”

“Aw, Shits. You do care,” Jack teased, cutting off the blackmail. He slipped another one of the cookies into his palm, crossed the room, and handed it to Shitty, blocking the transaction from Eric with his body. Shitty grinned and kissed both of Jack’s cheeks before stuffing the cookie in his mouth.

“Thanks, babe,” he mumbled around the mouthful of cookie.

“Jack Laurent Bittle-Zimmermann I swear on all that is good and holy that if you two are eating these cookies-” Eric pointed the frosting bag threateningly at the two of them.

“Bitty. Itty Bitty. Little Bittle.” Shitty swept grandly toward him, arms spread. “Find your Christmas chill.”

“Don’t you touch me, Shitty!” Eric tried his best to remain furious, but broke into giggles when Shitty bundled him up in a tight hug.

“You gotta have your Christmas kiss, babe.” He smooched Eric’s cheek and then released him. “As you were, my mission is accomplished.”

“Hello!” Alexei called from the front door, shedding his coat and hanging it up. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was bad. People do not know how to drive in this kind of weather.” He shook his head as he kicked off his boots. “What can I do to help?”

Shitty’s jaw dropped. “What, he gets to help and I can’t? Bits!”

“Softest hands in the Eastern Conference,” Jack said, and Alexei waggled his fingers in response.

“Wash your hands first, Tater, then go ahead and start rolling out the sugar cookie dough that’s chilling in the fridge for me.”

“Yes sir.” He tried to duck into the kitchen and stopped suddenly, looking down at Shitty’s hand on his chest. “Yes?”

“Gotta pay the toll, Mashkov.” Shitty pointed at the mistletoe.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, dude, mistletoe! When you get caught under the mistletoe, you’re supposed to give up a kiss! But if you’re not chill with that, you’re good to go.” Shitty took a step back. Alexei grinned and patted his cheek.

“Hit me with it, Shitty.” He leaned down a little so Shitty wouldn’t have to go up on his toes, and smiled when the smaller man brushed his lips against his cheek. “Your mustache tickles, Ami was right!”

“You’ve never kissed a man with a mustache before? I’m honored, bro.” Shitty pressed his hand to his chest and nodded as Alexei passed him to go to the sink and wash his hands.

Alexei flushed a pretty shade of pink across his nose and cheeks as he retrieved the sugar cookie dough from the fridge. “Kenny keeps his face clean-shaven so, no. Have never kissed man with hair on face.” 

Eric bumped his hip against Alexei’s leg and smiled up at him, scrunching his nose.  “I’m sorry you two haven’t gotten to see each other much.”

“Eh, we are used to it.” Alexei leaned into the work, pressing the rolling pin out towards the right and left edges of the quickly growing sheet of dough.

“Doesn’t mean it gets any easier,” Jack said, kissing the top of Eric’s head and smiling sadly at his friend. Alexei nodded at him. Shitty sidled over and leaned against the island, ignoring Eric’s glare.

“I admire the shit out of you all. I’d go bananas without Lardo around every day.”

Around the corner, the front door opened and shut. Amèlie gasped and screamed happily.

“Inside voice, Ami,” Eric chided, glancing up at his husband with a confused look on his face. Jack grinned and grabbed a corner of his husband’s apron, wiped his hands clean, and walked out of the room. Eric shook his head and looked down at the dough. “Tater, that looks so good and even! You can go ahead and start in with the cookie cutters, please.” Alexei absolutely glowed at Eric’s praise and did as he was told. Eric, wringing his hands in his apron, followed his husband.

“Oh! Well hey there, stranger!”

Shitty leaned forward and picked up a cookie cutter. Alexei swatted his hand and Shitty dropped the little metal Santa, holding his hand in his other one. Alexei pointed at him with the tree cutout he was holding. “You know what Bitty says. No touching for you.” 

“You heard the man.” Alexei dropped the tree and his head snapped towards the doorway. Kent was standing there and grinning over at him, not a lick of his usual smarmy expression clouding the joy on his face. “Hey, babe.”

Alexei was across the room and gathering Kent up in his arms in a heartbeat. “Kenny! When did you get here?”

“Plane touched down about an hour ago. I’m only in town until tomorrow night, but I missed you too much, so. Merry early Christmas.” Alexei leaned down to kiss his husband but stopped short and looked up. “What is it?”

“Scoot over, I’m wanting to kiss you under the mistletoe.” Kent laughed and obliged, stepping into Alexei’s space and pressing up on his toes to kiss him. Smiling into the kiss, Alexei tightened his arms around Kent’s waist and lifted him off the ground. “I love you.”

“Mm, I love you too.” Amèlie grabbed a fistful of Kent’s joggers and tugged. Kent looked down and chuckled. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I want my Christmas kiss, too, Uncle Kent.” 

Eric scooted past the three of them and got back to work, smiling as he pressed the sugar dough scraps into a new ball. “Let your uncle get in the door, honey.”

“Nah, it’s fine, Bitty. Put me down, babe.” Feet safely back on the floor, Kent bent down and picked up Amèlie. “Merry Christmas, doll.” He kissed her cheek and she looked up at Alexei, tapping impatiently on her other cheek.

“Oh, okay,” Alexei laughed and kissed her. Kent’s eyes softened.

“Will you help me and Aunt Larissa with the sock monkeys, Uncle Kent? Please?” Kent looked over to Eric, knowing better.

“Uh, do you need any more help in here?”

Eric smiled softly and shook his head. “You both go help out there. Jack and I’ve got this for now.” Jack eased back into the room, clapping Kent on the shoulder.

“Good to have you here.” 

“Good to be here.” Kent grinned at him, set Amèlie down, and let her tug him out towards the mess of scraps and thread on the living room floor. “So, missie, you just tell me what you need me to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALLLLLLL THE SHIPPY GOODNESS feat Amèlie Skylar


	17. Reindeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And Papa in his kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.”
> 
> “Daddy, you don’t wear a hat to sleep.”
> 
> “No honey, I know, it’s just for the poem.”

“And Papa in his kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.”

“Daddy, you don’t wear a hat to sleep.”

“No honey, I know, it’s just for the poem.”

“Oh, okay. You were at nap.” Amèlie pointed at the word on the page.

Eric smiled at his daughter, then looked across at Jack, tucked against Amèlie’s other side. “Jack, do you want to take a turn?”

“Well, certainly.” He accepted the book as Eric passed it across and started reading. “When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash; tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash!”

“Papa, what’s a clatter?”

“A great big noise. Like the sound a plate makes when you put it away, but louder.”

“Okay!” Jack kissed the top of her head and tucked his arm around her.

“The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a lustre of midday to objects below. When what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer!”

“Rudolph?” Amèlie grinned up at her dads.

“Mhm, Rudolph’s there!”

Eric hit the send button on the text he’d paused to type and worked hard to contain his smile.

***

“I’m grateful we were all reared in lands where it snows or our old asses would be freezing up here.” Adam leaned against the chimney nonchalantly. The lazily falling snow dusted their shoulders and caps with white.

“Holster, can it. We get it. You’re from Buffalo. Shut the fuck up, it’s fucking colder than a witch’s tit in a brass cup up here.” Shitty blew hard on his fingertips through his gloves and rubbed his hands together.

“And get over here, if we’re not over her room it won’t work.” Justin waved his hand frantically and Adam obeyed, moving slow as to not sound the handle of bells in his left hand.

“We haven’t even gotten the text yet, you guys need to chill.” He paused, smile wide, before he broke and snorted into his free hand.

“You’re rusty, babe.” Justin’s phone pulsed in his pocket. “Oh, shit!” He pulled it out to check it, fumbling it in his gloved hand, and grinned when he saw Eric’s all clear. “It’s go time, gentlemen.”

***

“And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: ‘Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!’” Jack’s face was animated as he read and Eric was melting. The cup of rum-spiked spiced eggnog had nothing to do with it, of course.

“I thought Daddy said Rudolph was there?” Amèlie pouted.

“Rudolph is there, honey, he just listens better than the others and Santa doesn’t have to tell him what to do.” Eric took another sip of his drink and his eyes wandered up to the ceiling.

“Oh! Okay.” She snuggled under her Papa’s arm and touched where ‘Blitzen’ was printed on the page. Jack smiled and started in again, exaggerated facial expressions and all.

“‘To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, now dash away, dash away, dash away all!’ As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly as they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky! So up to the housetop his coursers they flew, with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas, too. And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof-”

“Papa, hush, do you hear that?” A tinkle of bells sounded somewhere far off.

“Hear what, bebe?” Jack’s eyes flickered up to Eric, whose face was bright and mischievous, before settling back on wide-eyed Amèlie.

“Those bells, did you hear?” She scrambled across Jack’s lap and off the bed to the window and pulled up her blinds, searching the night with her hands and nose pressed to the glass. Eric snapped a photo with his phone before leaning across to kiss his husband and beckon to their daughter.

“Come back to bed, honey. It'll be too dark to see Santa right now.”

“But Pa _pa_ -”

“If you're hearing jingle bells, we've got to get through the story so you can go to sleep and Santa can come. He knows that you’re still awake and he won’t come til you’ve fallen asleep.” Jack patted the bed between himself and Eric and kissed her head as she reluctantly climbed back in and snuggled under her comforter. “Ready?”

“Oui, Papa.”

“And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.”

***

“Alright, you two ready?” Adam held the bell bar out in front of himself and looked over his shoulder. Justin was holding on to his jacket and Shitty to Justin’s.

“Yeah, let's go,” Justin hissed.

Adam gave the jingle bells another hard shake like the one he'd accidentally sounded a few moments prior when Justin had received Eric’s text. “Okay. Left foot first.”

***

“As I drew in my-” Jack’s head snapped up from the book. Something – or, what sounded like quite a few somethings – was on the roof. A cacophony of steps and stomps and bells sounded through the ceiling, and Amèlie gasped.

“Daddy! Papa! Get out, get out!” She shoved at her parents, urging them off of her bed, and took the book from Jack. She set it on the bedside table and turned out her lamp, then resumed shoving her dads off her bed. “Santa is here and I need to sleep!”

“But, darlin’,” Eric paused, swallowing his giggles. “Don’t you want to finish the story?”

“I don’t want him to leave, Daddy, can’t we finish it tomorrow? Or next Christmas?”

The three of them looked up when a loud “Ho, ho, ho!” echoed down from the roof.

“Oh my _goodness,_ let me go to sleep!” She scrambled back under her blanket and curled up in a ball, screwing her eyes shut. The sounds on the roof continued, a quiet melody of footsteps and silvery bells.

“Give me a kiss, love,” Jack said, leaning down over her and tucking her blanket around her. She pecked his lips and snuggled back into her pillow, only turning her face up to kiss Eric and then very aggressively huffing.

“We love you, we’ll see you bright and early.” Eric turned on her night light and followed Jack out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. He texted a ceasefire to Justin as he followed Jack downstairs.

***

Bitty [10:15 PM]: Mission accomplished! Come inside, I’ve got drinks for y’all.

Holster [10:16 PM]: @Jack come hold the ladder so we don’t die coming down please

Shits McGee [10:16 PM]: Did she lose her mind?

Bitty [10:17 PM]: We were very unceremoniously booted from her room and told to go to bed so be quiet when you get in here.

Ransom [10:17 PM]: That fire better be lit by the time we get in there. I’m going to climb into it.

Bitty [10:18 PM]: @Holster the ‘ho, ho, ho’ was a nice touch.

Holster [10:18 PM]: I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about.


	18. Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “‘Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me, as it does for all who truly believe.’” He closed the book and looked down at Amèlie. She was chewing on her lip.
> 
> “Does everybody forget about Santa when they grow up?” She looked up at Jack, worry knitting her eyebrows together.

“‘At one time, most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound.’”

“No!” Amèlie pouted up at her dad. Jack nodded down at her, frowning.

“I know, it’s sad.” He kissed the top of her head and turned back to the book. “‘Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me, as it does for all who truly believe.’” He closed the book and looked down at Amèlie. She was chewing on her lip.

“Does everybody forget about Santa when they grow up?” She looked up at Jack, worry knitting her eyebrows together.

“I haven’t,” he promised. She frowned.

“You could be lying to me, Papa.”

He sat back for a moment, thinking, then nodded and set the book aside. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He got up and walked across the living room to the fireplace, reaching down into her stocking and feeling around for a moment before he came up with a little box. It was wrapped in red paper and tied up with frilly white ribbon. He crossed back to where Amèlie was bundled up on the couch and knelt in front of her. “Now, it’s not Christmas yet, but you can open this one gift. Just this one.” He handed it to her and smiled as she tugged at the ribbons.

“Papa,” Amèlie breathed when she lifted the lid off of the box. An old bell shone dully in the light from the snowy day outside.

“Your grandmère gave me that when I was your age. She found it outside in the snow Christmas morning.” She looked up from the bell at him, eyes bright and wide. “Here,” he closed his eyes. “I’ll nod when you shake it, so you know I’m not lying.”

She picked the bell up off the cushion it rested on, careful not to jostle it until she meant to. There was a torn piece of leather strung through the little loop top of it. The tie might’ve once been cherry red, but the years had done a number on the color.  She took a deep breath and shook the bell.

A clear, high noise echoed around the living room. Jack nodded his head and opened his eyes. Amèlie was grinning ear to ear. “You didn’t forget!”

“What on earth was that sound?” Eric rounded the corner from the kitchen, wiping off his hands on his apron. Amèlie’s smile impossibly widened and she launched herself off the couch towards her dad, the bell jangling as she ran.

“You haven’t forgotten either!” She threw her arms around his legs and he patted her head, looking at his husband with his confusion plain on his face. Jack held up the book as an answer, and Eric smiled.

“Of course not, honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're making it! It's happening! Also - happy update week, everyone! And if anyone watches Yuri On Ice, I'm also weeping over the season ending so. Solidarity.


	19. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Happy ten years since we got engaged, by the way.”
> 
> “Oh, was that today?” Eric teased. “I thought I'd lit all these candles for the heck of it.”

Eric struck a match and held it to the wick of the last of the many candles he'd spread over the dresser and bedside tables, shaking the match out once the flame caught. He nestled the candle next to the others and pulled the string on the lamp, dousing the last non-flickering light source in the room. He looked around the room, watching the shadows dance across the comforter and pillows, and sighed. He hugged himself and rubbed the worn-soft fabric of his shirsey sleeves between his fingers.

Climbing up onto the bed, he plucked his tablet from where it sat on Jack’s bedside table and rested it in his lap, distractedly flipping through twitter and answering a few basic questions about ingredient substitution that were in his mentions.

The tablet buzzed in his hands, a picture of Jack and Amèlie building a sandcastle together overtaking the white and blue app he'd been fiddling with. He grinned and answered the call.

“Hey, handsome man.”

Jack smiled sleepily at him. He sported a pair of stitches on his upper lip. “Hey, Bits.”

“How's that feeling?” Eric tilted his chin toward the screen, pointing at the injury.

“Swollen and tender. It's probably better that we’re so far apart right now, eh? I can't ignore doctor’s orders and try to kiss all over you.” He raised the uninjured corner of his mouth apologetically, still wincing a little. “They gave me anesthetic gel to put on it, but it's not kicked in yet.”

“You'd think you'd’ve learned to duck by now, honey,” he chirped half-heartedly.

“I'm getting old, my reflexes aren't what they used to be,” Jack joked. They both fell quiet and ruminated on the underlying truth of that statement for a moment. “But hey, how was your parents’ first day in?”

“Good. Their flight came in a little later than we expected so we just stayed in and made dinner. Watched the Santa Clause.” Eric yawned. “Mama’s gonna come in to the bakery with me in the morning and Coach is gonna watch Ami.”

“I should be home by two or three tomorrow.” Jack adjusted his tablet and laid down. The two of them looked at each other, smiling faintly. “Happy ten years since we got engaged, by the way.”

“Oh, was that today?” Eric teased. “I thought I'd lit all these candles for the heck of it.” He smiled at his husband. “Happy ten years.”

“We’ll get married eventually,” Jack joked, stretching.

“Aww, who’s in a hurry? We get hitched when we get hitched.” Eric giggled.

“I'm sorry I'm not there,” Jack mumbled. “I know I don't need to be, but I'm missing tonight and missing your parents getting in-”

“Hey now, mister. We're talking, aren't we? It's fine.”

Jack nodded and looked away from the screen. After a quiet moment, he looked back at the camera through his lashes. “Remember the first time we did this?”

“I do.”

The first anniversary of their engagement, Jack and Eric had lit every candle they owned across the surfaces in the bedroom of their apartment, popped open a bottle of wine, and stayed up until almost three laughing and kissing and reminiscing. They'd made love and almost set the apartment on fire when Jack, somewhat uncoordinated bundle of long limbs that he is, had kicked a candle to the floor while rolling Eric over to press him into the mattress.

Even though they'd gotten married the next summer, the tradition stuck. Every year they could manage it they stayed up late and had wine - and cheese, when they had good cheese laying around - and just talked about the year behind them. And when Jack was away for it like he was tonight, they made do.  The New Year was always a bustling event for the two of them, so they made do and reassigned their reflecting to this more personal day.

“Don't light the house on fire without me.”

“But honey,” Eric gasped and melodramatically clutched his proverbial pearls. “It’s tradition!” They giggled together, and Eric leaned over to the nightstand and picked up his glass of wine. “I don't suppose you're allowed to have a drink if you've had painkillers?”

Jack shifted out of the frame, long legs unfolding. When he settled back into his spot on the hotel bed, he toasted Eric with a flute of champagne. “They gave me like 200 milligrams three hours ago and I've played a period of hockey since then. I'm all set.”

“Well, you start then.” Eric settled back against the pillows and took a sip.

“Amèlie spraining her wrist.”

Eric’s jaw dropped. “That's a highlight for you?!”

“No, but how utterly unfazed she was while you and I went off our heads is.” He chuckled and took a sip of his champagne.

Amèlie had fallen off the swing set in the backyard and landed with all her weight on her right hand. While she’d cried a little, her dads had done her to shame. “We’re lucky Nurse was there,” Jack murmured.

“Oh, you know as well as I do that his internal monologue is just constant screeching.”

“Fair. Your go,” Jack smiled into the glass as he took a drink.

“The day y’all came in and helped run the bakery,” Eric said. “Watching Snowy learn to braid dough may be my favorite thing that’s happened there since we opened it.”

Jack nodded, then thought for a moment before speaking. “Eating your cake at Shitty and Lardo’s wedding.”

Eric pouted. “Take the words right out of my mouth, why don’t you, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“I’m still in shock that they actually got married.” Jack shrugged.

“Took them long enough,” Eric said. He traced the rim of his glass with his fingertip. “Toasting to the two of them is definitely one of my favorite memories this year. I love to love on people.”

“Mm.” Jack’s eyes flashed brighter. “I wish I was there.”

“That’s not a memory, Jack,” Eric reprimanded, smirking.

“Then, do you remember my birthday?” Jack raised his eyebrows and started to take the last sip of his drink.

“Oh, Lord.” Eric blushed. “Yes, I remember your birthday.”

“That.” He smacked his lips and set the glass on a table offscreen, the glass clinking against wood. “That was definitely a highlight.” He considered his husband for a long moment. “I love that I can still make you flustered, Eric.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, smiling, and savored that. “Me, too.”


	20. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you remember how to outline and flood cookies?” Suzanne asked. Amèlie nodded and demonstrated, albeit a little messily, on one of her cookies. “Good job. You do those, and I’ll get these wreaths done.”

“Now, darlin’, remember: only cookies from this plate for Papaw,” Suzanne said, pointing to the brightly colored plate. “There’s different sugar in them so they don’t make him sick.”

Amèlie nodded, taking one of the non-Papaw cookies from a non-Papaw platter and cramming it into her mouth. “Mamaw,” she mumbled around the treat, “when will Daddy and Papa be home?”

“I’m not sure, pumpkin.” Suzanne ran a tight pair of fingers down each side of the pastry bag she was holding, settling the bright green icing as far down as it would go. “They said they didn’t have much shopping left to do, so it shouldn’t be long. Want to come up here and help me ice these sugar cookies?”

“Yes’m,” she said, reaching up to her grandmother. Suzanne lifted her and set her next to the plate. She filled and prepared a smaller pastry bag full of gold frosting for the little girl and handed it to her, setting aside a handful of the bell shaped cookies. 

“Do you remember how to outline and flood cookies?” Suzanne asked. Amèlie nodded and demonstrated, albeit a little messily, on one of her cookies. “Good job. You do those, and I’ll get these wreaths done.”

***

A few pastry bags worth of frosting and a few overflows later, Suzanne and Amèlie finished decorating their sugar cookies. Amèlie pulled her stepping stool up to the sink to wash her hands while Suzanne cleaned the frosting covered countertop off. 

Eric Senior meandered in from the living room and sat down at the table, opening up a book on his tablet and settling in to read. “How’s it going in here, ladies?”

“We’re all done with the sugar cookies, Papaw!”

“Getting ready to make thumbprint cookies with peach and raspberry jam,” Suzanne said, drying the bowl she’d washed while the sugar cookies were baking with a dishcloth and setting it aside.

“Well, that sounds just lovely.” He waited until Suzanne had turned around to dig for new measuring cups in the Narnia that was their son’s baking drawer and waved his hands to get Amèlie’s attention. 

The little girl tilted her head to the side, and he pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed to the tray of sugar cookies. Amèlie grinned and grabbed one of the bell cookies she’d decorated as she jumped down from the sink, rushing to get the cookie to her grandfather before her grandmother could scoop her up and stop her. Eric picked her up and settled her onto his lap, taking a big bite of the cookie and offering it to her to take a bite of. She took it from him, took a small bite, and handed it back.

“Merci, Papaw.”

Suzanne turned around when she noticed Amèlie missing from the counter. “What are-  _ Amèlie Skylar, _ I told you to only-”

“Oh, Suzanne, it’s only one cookie, darlin’.” Eric smiled and popped the last bite of it into his mouth. “Just one. You know how much I love your sugar cookies.”

“Don’t you try to butter me up, it’s been forty-three years and-”

“And it still works, don’t it?” He grinned, and Suzanne blushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mamaw and Papaw are here!
> 
> I've always thought that Suzanne called Bits 'Dicky' and Coach calls him 'Junior' because Coach's name is also Eric Richard Bittle? So Suzanne would call Coach 'Eric' and need to call Bitty something else, therefore: Dicky? I don't know if this is explained in the canon anywhere but yeehaw Eric Senior.
> 
> Also, HAPPY FIRST NIGHT OF HANUKKAH (a few hours late) and MERRY CHRISTMAS (a few hours early)! I hope you're having a wonderful holiday and, if you're not, that this work has brought you a little light. It's sure done that for me. <3 <3
> 
> There will be two more chapters today. Come talk to me on tumblr – I'm thedarkirishsilence.


	21. Sparkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood up, angling his skates so he’d be able to help her get to her feet. “You gonna fall on me?”

Jack smiled up at the gently falling snow, purple laces wrapped tight around his fingers. He tightened them, tugging this way and that, until Amèlie’s little ankles were immobilized in her boots. “ _Wiggle your feet, love._ ” She tried, and the boots moved evenly with her legs.

“ _Perfect_.” He stood up, angling his skates so he’d be able to help her get to her feet. “ _You gonna fall on me_?”

“ _No, Papa_.” She reached up for his hands, rolling her eyes. “ _I know how_.” She pulled herself to her feet, using his hands for leverage. She took a few tentative steps forward, Jack sliding along backwards to accommodate her movements, and promptly slipped. Jack lifted her up and hugged her to his chest. “ _Papa, put me down,_ ” she whined, but she threw her arms around his shoulders.

He hefted her higher in his arms, sitting her chest-to-chest with him across one of his forearms, her boots knocking against his ribs through the thick wool of his jacket. “ _In a minute._ ” He kissed her temple.

They skated towards the middle of the pond, Jack lazily turning spins and dipping a giggling Amèlie. It was late enough in the evening that most everyone else was home, tucked in and bundled up against the storm that was going to hit that night. Eric was finishing up his last rush orders at the bakery before closing down for the next week, and Jack had the night off. He’d bundled himself and Amèlie up, double checked the chains on his tires, and they’d set off towards the park, skates in tow.

The light from the city was hitting and reflecting off the thick cloud cover that’d moved in over the afternoon, casting a soft yellow glow over the park. Amèlie peered out from under the brim of her thick knitted cap, and Jack smiled at the light catching in her eyes, turning them the same blue as the ice.

“ _Ready, my little one?_ ” Brave as she may’ve been acting, she had learned to skate last holiday on the smooth, resurfaced ice of her father’s rink and the city rink that operated from November to March. Her first footsteps on the rippled pond ice had been the stumbling ones she’d taken a few minutes earlier, and he could see the trepidation on her face. “ _Hey. I fall at work and I’ve been skating for thirty years! It’s okay to fall, you just need to be able to get back up again._ ”

She bit her lip and nodded, the snowflakes sticking to her hat and hair glittering. “ _Put me down, Papa. I’m ready.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that things in italics are in French and I'm just not great at French anymore, so here we are!
> 
> One more chapter!!


	22. Unwrapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Daddy! Papa!” Amèlie’s voice echoed down the hallway in front of her as she barrelled from her room to her fathers’. “Wake up, wake up! Santa’s been here, Santa’s been here!”

“Daddy! Papa!” Amèlie’s voice echoed down the hallway in front of her as she barrelled from her room to her fathers’. “Wake up, wake up! Santa’s been here, Santa’s been here!” She leapt onto the bed, landing right on top of the two of them.

“Oof!”

“Honey, _ow,_ your daddies are old and battered, you can’t go leaping on us like that!” Eric rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head.

“Speak for yourself,” Jack teased, already sitting up and squeezing Amèlie close. “I think I can take a three-year-old.” Eric grumbled from beneath his pillow-helmet.

“I’m almost four, Papa.” Amèlie pouted.

“No, December is closer to last July than next July, love.” Jack tickled her and she yelled.

“Well, still. You both gotta get up so we can go downstairs together and you can see what Santa brought!”

***

“Holtzy.” Justin kissed his husband’s forehead.

Adam didn’t move.

“Babe, wake up.”

Adam still did not move.

“Adam Oluransi.”

He groaned and rolled, pressing his face into the pillow. “Present and accounted for.”

“We’ve got to wake up and go over to Jack and Bits’ in a while to open presents with Ami.”

“I so prefer starting my holidays at dusk instead of dawn.”

***

“Holy fuck,” Shitty said gleefully while pulling the paper off of the three-foot-tall portrait. “Rufus, you massive and glorious yak of a dog, look how goddamn _fancy_ you are!” He turned it towards where the old dog lay, half-hidden beneath the tree.

Rufus rolled over and farted, her tongue rolling out.

“I think she loves it almost as much as I do.” Shitty grinned and kissed Larissa. “Thank you, wife.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling.

“Your turn, your turn,” Shitty sang, handing her a box the size of his palm.

She tugged the ribbon from around the box. “What could it be?” She grinned cheekily at him while she lifted the lid off, and picked up a key off the velvety cushion it’d been resting on. “What is it to?”

“Let’s go see.”

***

After all the socks and frames and cookbooks and the easy-bake oven had been torn from their paper, Eric and Jack settled onto the couch and watched their daughter prepare her third cake of the morning.

“You ready for your gift, n’amour?” Jack shifted nervously next to Eric.

Closing the book of South American baked goods he’d been flipping through, Eric grinned at Jack. “I’ve been ready since you and Lardo started teasing me about it three weeks ago!”

Jack stood up and padded over to the tree, picking up a neatly wrapped box. He rubbed the wrapping pensively with his thumb as he walked back across the room, skirting Amèlie’s new toys and clothes. He settled back onto the couch and carefully set the box in his husband’s lap.

***

Shitty tightened the blindfold around his wife’s head. “Comfy?”

“Yes,” Larissa said uncertainly. “How far do we have to drive?”

“About ten minutes. Sit tight.” Shitty pressed his lips to the top of her head and double-checked her seatbelt before shutting her door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

***

“KENNY, WAKE UP!” Alexei dove on the bed and wrapped himself around the balled-up lump under the comforter that was Kent.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Alyosha, I’m awake. Please don’t _bellow_ like that, you’ll give Kit a heart attack.”

“She’s used to me and you know it. Probably immortal anyway, with how old she is.” Alexei nuzzled his face into Kent’s hair. “Now get out of bed. We have plans with your mother and sister at ten today.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Kent grumbled, trying to roll away and failing miserably.

“Oh, yes.” Alexei leaned over, cupped Kent’s face in his hands, and kissed him softly. “Merry Christmas, cranky husband.”

Kent grinned and kissed him back, but tucked his chin after a moment and sniffed. “Are you already showered for the day?”

“Mhm. I’ve been awake for about an hour. Excited to spend Christmas with your family. Couldn’t sleep.” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

The grin on Kent’s face softened into a tender smile. “I’m excited, too, babe.”

***

“No way.” Larissa stood in the middle of an empty loft, full of sunlight made brighter by the snow it was reflecting off of. She took a few steps, spinning slowly and taking in the space. What walls there were were freshly painted white and the wide-planked, light hardwood floor had been recently refinished.  Wide, multipaned windows looked out over the Boston skyline in three different directions. “No fucking way.”

“I’m sorry if it’s too much, but after the old studio burned down I started looking.” Shitty ruffled his hair with his hand. “I brought over your brushes and palettes and things from Jack and Bitty’s sun room already, that’s what’s in those.” He gestured to the stack of cardboard boxes against the only wall not almost entirely composed of windows. “There’s some new stuff there, too. Replacements for tools I know you lost. And we’ve got shelves and your easels in the back of the truck.”

“Shits, it’s.” She paused and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s perfect.” She put her arms out and hung her head, and he took the few steps to wrap her in a tight hug. “You shouldn’t have spent this much money on me,” she groaned into his chest.

“This is from everybody, babe.” Shitty lifted her face up with a finger under her chin. “Jack, Bitty, Rans, Holster, Nursey and Dex. Chowder and Farms chipped in, too. And Johnson, even though none of us got a hold of him about it.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “We all love you and we wanted you to have your space back.”

She halfheartedly and affectionately punched his arm. “I love you, too.”

***

“So.” Eric sat with a now-unwrapped wooden box in his lap. It was a little larger than a hatbox, and there was a padlock over the fasten. “It’s. Um.” He paused and looked up at where Jack was biting back a smile. “Oh, would you quit teasin’ me and just explain what it is?”

“Alright.” Jack’s smile wavered for a moment and he took a deep breath. “So, right now, there’s only two things in there.” He dug a silver key out of his pants pocket and held it up. “And you can open it now and look, if you want to.”

“Of course I want to, silly,” Eric said, taking the key and inserting it into the little sterling silver padlock. It popped off the fasten into his hand and he closed most of his fingers around it, keeping his index and thumb free to lift open the little trunk.

One of the three bottles of wine they’d saved from their wedding was wrapped up in a thick cloth to keep it from rattling around in the box, and an envelope was tucked beneath it. Eric looked up at Jack and took in the nervousness brightening his eyes.

“I know this is a big thing, if our wedding wine is in it. I’m excited, I’m just not sure exactly what it’s for.”

Jack smiled. “Read what’s in the envelope. You can read either part first.”

Eric wiggled the envelope out from beneath the tightly-fitted wine bottle and untucked the flap from it. There were two pieces of paper, one covered in Jack’s handwriting and the other looked like a receipt. Eric knew whatever Jack had written was liable to make him weepy, so he set the letter on top of the wine and unfolded the other one first.

“Oh, wow,” his eyes widened as they scanned the lines of text on the receipt. “But what-”

“The letter explains everything.” Jack pulled his knee up to his chin and rested his head on it, watching as Eric picked up the letter and unfolded it.

 

_Eric,_

_I know that I’m technically about to give you a gift you won’t get to use for almost two years, but I wanted to commemorate this decision in the big way it deserves, so here goes. Barring injury, I’m going to play the rest of this season, next season, and then retire._

 

Eric gasped and looked up at Jack. “Honey?”

“Keep reading, love. We’ll talk when you’re done, okay?” Jack touched Eric’s knee, rubbing his thumb over the bare skin.

 

_We’ve been talking about it for a long time and, while it doesn’t quite feel like it’s time right now, I’m ready to be ready, if that makes any sense. I’ve already spoken to George and Andrew and, while we’re keeping it professionally under wraps until it’s ‘official,’ it’s official as far as I’m concerned._

_My mother and I talked about it and she said she and Papa’s marriage weathered quite the storm after he retired; neither of them was used to having the other around all the time and they fought often. She gave me a good piece of advice, one that I think we’ve followed for a long time in our partnership but one that could always use refreshing: be intentional. I don’t want to fight with you or grouch at you, and I don’t want you to be annoyed at me being underfoot in a way I haven’t been since college.  I know you better than I know anyone, and that you know me better than anyone else could ever hope to, but I think it’d be a good idea if we were ‘intentional’ about relearning each other as daily company._

_So, this box. I’ve already put some of our wedding wine in here, and the receipt for the new suits - they’re in the back of the closet behind our graduation robes. I want both of us to keep tucking things away in here for the next two years (we can get a bigger box if we need to) and I’d like to go on a second honeymoon. The box will serve as our planner of sorts and we can take it with us and fill it with mementos while we’re emptying it of everything we’ll have put into it while planning. Anything - more wine, plane tickets, receipts for classes, card games, mad libs. I’ll probably drop more letters in here for you to read on our trip over the next few years._

_I am very anxious about stepping away from something I’ve done competitively my entire life.  I’m not sure yet what my next professional step will be, but we’ve got all the time in the world to talk about that.  I do know, however, that I am so excited to be able to spend more time with you and more time with our incredible daughter. I’m ready to stop missing you two all the time, and I’m ready to stop missing out on things, little and big._

_I love you, Bits. Merry Christmas._

 

Eric wiped his eyes and looked up. Amelie had climbed up into Jack’s lap while he’d been reading and she was cuddled against her Papa’s chest and dozing off. “I know that’s a lot in a letter, but you know I’m better at writing things out than saying them,” Jack apologized.

“Oh, honey.” Eric sniffled. “I love you too, and I love this, and I’m so proud of you.” He set the box carefully onto the floor and leaned across the couch to press his lips to Jack’s. “So proud.”

Amèlie opened her eyes and tilted her face up to see her dads kiss. “Eww,” she stuck her tongue out.

“You hush,” Eric laughed, kissing her face and tickling her. “Oh! Your turn, honey.” Eric hopped up off the couch and retrieved a box from behind where Amèlie had been sitting before. He set it on the arm of the couch behind Jack and pulled the giggling little girl across the couch and into his lap. “My turn for Christmas snuggles.”

Jack slid his finger below the taped edge of the paper and popped one end open, then the other, then the bottom.

“I swear, darlin’, we don’t ever save the paper,” Eric teased.

Unfolding the paper from around the box and handing it to Amèlie, Jack lifted the lid open and gasped. “Is this an F2?” He lifted the vintage camera body out of the tissue paper it was wrapped in.

“Mhm. It’s from 1990,” Eric said. “I went with one of the slightly older bodies.”

Jack chuckled. “You calling my body slightly older?”

Amèlie giggled and Eric blushed and laughed. “Har har, Mr. Zimmermann. I just wanted to get you something a little more fun to tinker with.” He paused and let Jack look over the camera for a moment. “All of your other lenses should fit it fine, that’s why I went with a Nikon. Apparently they-”

“Didn’t change their mount size, yeah.” Jack held the camera up and looked through the viewfinder.

“There’s film in your stocking.”

“Thank you so much, Bits, this is fantastic.” Jack grinned at him and leaned forward to kiss him.

“Pa _paaaa,”_ Amèlie whined.

“Let me love on your dad, _ma chère,_ ” Jack chastised, kissing Eric twice more for good measure. “Nothing wrong with kisses.”

“She’s just mad she’s not getting them,” Eric said, gathering her up in his arms and peppering the top of her head with kisses.

Laughing and smiling, Amèlie looked up at her parents. “Merry Christmas!”

Eric studied her face, taking in the joy in her eyes and how wide her smile was. He looked up at Jack, eyes brimming with tears, and tucked his face into her hair. “Merry Christmas, honey.” And it was.

And it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! Ahhh!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading along with me through the holidays. I hope you're enjoying yourself this holiday season and, if you're not, that you find a kind of inner peace moving forward into the new year. 
> 
> Come chat with me on tumblr - I'm thedarkirishsilence. <3


End file.
